


A Song for Eurydice

by optimustaud, Riakomai



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Body Horror, Cannon Divergence, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Mental Illness, Suicidal Ideation, Torture, cursing, motown and soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-17 23:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11861766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimustaud/pseuds/optimustaud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riakomai/pseuds/Riakomai
Summary: Ten years after the events of The Winter Soldier Steve tracks Bucky to an abandoned Hydra base in Siberia.





	A Song for Eurydice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. This is my submission for the 2017 Stucky Big Bang. This is my first BB and my first time writing for the fandom. I have to say I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> Art is by Riakomai, fic was beta'd by @author-james-raisanen on tumblr. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> There is a song list at the end of the fic for anyone interested in the music mentioned throughout the story.

 

 

**Limbo **

The quinjet kicked up a cloud of snow, its repulsors whining softly as Steve maneuvered it into a landing. He could almost taste the sharp cold of the air; a welcome thing after hours trapped inside the stale, recycled atmosphere of the jet. He tapped his fingers along the quinjets console with a frown watching the environmental readouts.  His eyes wondered over the dash to stare through the thick glass windshield.  Snow swirled through the gray skies from where it had been disrupted during the landing. The frozen wilds of Siberia welcomed him with an overpowering silence. There was something fantastic about the mountains that surrounded him.  They were ancient things, rising from the earth like great beasts bound in isolation and cold.

It was something Steve could relate to.  He gave the mountains a lazy salute.  Directly in front of him were a pair of forged double doors surrounded by bedrock.  They were invisible from the air and if he hadn’t already known where to look for them he would never have found them. 

Steve leaned back in the pilot's seat and sighed before hitting the comms. “It’s me, I’m here.”

“Good to hear from ya Cap. Glad you made it safe and sound,” Sam’s voice echoed from the quinjet’s speakers.  “Have a good trip?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sound of Sam’s voice.  “Good to hear your voice Sam. You miss me already?”

Sam laughed.  “Like hell.  More worried about you wondering around on your own.  Wouldn’t want to dig you out of an ice cube again.”  Sam’s voice sobered.   “You sure you’ll be fine on your own out there?”

“I’ll be fine.  Did you find anything else?” Steve asked.

“You know, you could have stayed to read the data yourself instead of running out half cocked before anyone knew what the hell was going on,” Sam snarked back playfully. “To be honest, not much. Just building records, staff, and supply lists. The base went under construction in ’48. Records say that it was used for meteorological studies and cold weather training. It had a pretty steady staff rotation until ’91 and it was officially abandoned in ‘94. Doesn’t look too remarkable on the surface.”

“But . . .,” 

“But, I had Bruce and Tony take a closer look at the supply and staff lists. They came to the same conclusion you did.”

Steve nodded in agreement and then remembering that Sam couldn’t see him said, “I thought so. I’m running out of places to look.”

There was a long silence that Steve didn’t want to break.  The argument over the Winter Soldier was as old as their friendship.  

 

“I should be there with you,” Sam said.

 

“You should be where you are, helping the people who need you ‘Cap’.”  

 

Sam snorted with embarrassed amusement. “If there is anyone in this whole wide world who needs help, it’s you. Watch your ass. Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

Steve smiled. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “Me and my stupid will be just fine.”

 

“Sure you will. Twenty-four hours, Cap, and then I come and check on you and your stupid.”

 

“I hear ya.”

 

“Good luck, Steve.”

 

“Thanks, Sam.”  Warm gratitude spread deep in Steve’s chest as he cut off the comm.  Sam Wilson was a better Captain America than Steve had ever been.  Sam knew people, understood how they worked in ways Steve never had.  Sam could tell in an instant how a person would react, could judge when to fight and when to back off.  Sam’s uncanny insight had kept him alive in the heat of battle.  Steve had been lucky to meet Sam.  Sometimes he could hardly believe it had been ten years already.   So much had changed since SHIELD had fallen.

 

The failure of Project Insight marked the end of Hydra.  When the full extent of Hydra's plans for the helicarriers were made public it had galvanized the world to action.  Intelligence agencies across the globe had pooled their efforts to destroy the organization once and for all.  Hydra had played their hand and revealed their strength too soon.  Fear of that strength had united the world in the effort to destroy Hydra.  Steve often thought that if Pierce and Zola hadn’t been in such a hurry Hydra would still be the de facto rulers of the world.  The irony filled him with bitter humor.  If they had been wiser men they would have realized that they had accomplished their goal years ago.

 

Steve had largely been absent from it all.  At the time he had been far more concerned with finding Bucky.  It took him two years to track his best friend to Romania.   Steve shook his head as if to shake away old memories.  Bucharest had been a disaster.  Although he didn’t know it at the time he had been followed by the remnants of Hydra and the agents of a dozen other governments who were interested in capturing the Winter Soldier.  Steve had been separated from Bucky in the fighting before they had a chance to really talk.  Steve hadn’t seen Bucky since.

Years passed. The world moved on.  The furor around Project Insight and Hydra died down.   The Winter Soldier faded from the public memory as new threats and enemies took Hydra’s place.

One day he woke up, looked out at the changed New York skyline and realized that, for the first time in a long time, he was happy.  That morning he walked to the art supply store whistling a George Gershwin song.  When the sun rose the next morning he was ready to capture that beautiful skyline on paper.

Over the years something inside of him had changed.  He still ached for Bucky and a part of him would always feel a longing for the life he had left behind in 1945, but he was no longer crushed by those feelings.  He threw himself into his new life learning to take joy in those simple moments once more.  He surrounded himself with his art and his friends  and settled into a comfortable semi-retirement.  It had been surprisingly easy to pass the shield to Sam. 

One by one the other Avengers began to go their separate ways.  The new generation of Avengers raised on the tales of Captain America came into their own.  Steve could only think that this was exactly the way it should be.  When he was with Sam in those quiet moments that only two old friends can share he would admit that he was satisfied with his work.  A throw away punk from Brooklyn who no one had expected to live to twenty five had made his mark on the world, had inspired people to be better than they were.  

He would be forty soon.  The rage and frustration that had fueled him through his tumultuous youth had mellowed.  He was ready to see the Grand Canyon, open an art gallery, or visit the Forbidden City.  Anything he could think of that he hadn’t done yet he wanted to do.  He only had one very big piece of unfinished business to take care of before he could move on.  He had to know that Bucky was going to be able to move on with his life as well.

Bucky’s trail had grown cold after Bucharest and Steve had been forced to start searching through old Hydra bases.  There were precious few left that hadn’t been destroyed or repurposed during the Hydra purge.  This lonely base hidden in the mountains might be the last place left for him to look.

Steve grabbed his gear and stepped out onto the frozen ground.  The ground crunched beneath his boots as he walked towards the two ugly double doors sticking out of the rock. He took a deep breath, braced both palms against the doors, and pushed. The doors parted easily clanging noisily from the force of Steve’s push. Steve frowned, he had been expecting much more resistance.

He wiped his hands against his pants and peered inside before taking his first steps forward. The base was an unremarkable mix of neutral grays and browns that ate at the dim light from the entrance. Steve pulled out his flashlight and moved further into the darkness. The first floor of the base was much larger on the inside than expected. He walked down the ramp, his flashlight bobbing left and right as he moved deeper into the base. 

The sound of his breathing was harsh in his own ears.   Dust motes danced in the beam of light from his flashlight.  He could smell oil and the worn groves of tire marks on the concrete of the ramp.  He wondered just how many people had been shipped down here in secret never to be heard from again.  Steve’s cursory read files on this place had made it pretty clear that this base had been used to research the serum.  It made sense, it was well hidden and out of the way from any settlements.  Even a person enhanced with the serum would have a hard time avoiding his persuers and surviving the cold at the same time.  Luckily Steve had plenty of experience surviving the cold.

He had been walking down the ramp for several minutes and he wasn’t sure how far down he had gone when the passageway opened into a large, circular room.  The domed ceiling rose over his head. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he scanned the area.  He was completely surrounded by abandoned shipping equipment.

Most of the machinery left was rusted and unusable. It was an odd assortment of trucks, jeeps, forklifts, and shipping pallets all piled together. From the haphazard look of the room Hydra had abandoned this base in a hurry, scrapping whatever they couldn’t take with them.  

At the opposite end of the room he could make out an elevator that must have lead down to the main levels of the base.  As he approached the elevator he caught sight of a car that was decades younger than any of the other equipment.  Steve walked over to inspect it.  It was some sort of military all terrain vehicle.  Steve cracked opened the door and climbed up into the cab.  He was immediately struck by the smell of stale cigarette smoke and wet dog.

Steve pulled himself into the driver's seat and ran his hands over the wheel. During the war Bucky had been perpetually covered in a cloud of cigarette smoke. The only time Steve could remember him being without a cigarette was when he had a rifle in his hand.  The smell had followed Bucky everywhere, lingering on his clothes and his bedding.  The smell of cigarette smoke was something that he missed terribly during those first few months after he was woken up.

Steve knew that the scent didn’t really mean anything.  Lots of people smoked, but he couldn’t deny the sharp flare of hope that sprang in his chest at the discovery.  He reached for the key, still stuck in the ignition and turned the engine over.  He almost whooped like a boy when the car started without protest.

One working vehicle that smelled of cigarettes and dog was all it took to bring Bucky back to life in his mind.  Maybe this time Steve would be able to settle things with him.  Steve cut off the engine and got out of the car, shutting the door behind him.

With newfound hope he  walked to the elevator and with the push of a button he descended into the unknown.

 

* * *

 

 

Bucky jerked awake.    A long, wailing siren sounded in his room and panic overwhelmed him. He struggled against his blankets pantic raggedly.  His hands shook as he tried to remember where he was.  The noise rattled through his skull.  He needed to do something before they got here.  If they found him in bed, who knew what would happen to him.  Bucky heaved off the bed and stumbled towards his weapons frantically.

A soft whine punctuated by a drawn out yawn brought him back to his senses.  He was at the base with Virgil.  The proximity alarms had gone off.  He was safe for now.  Bucky slumped back to the bed and sat until his shaking calmed.  Virgil wormed his way across the mattress to lay his head in Bucky’s lap.  The dog stared into his face and licked its nose.  Bucky laughed nervously and stroked Virgil’s head until his hands stopped shaking. 

With his equilibrium restored he  reached for his shoes and his weapons.  Virgil slithered across the bed to curl against Bucky’s pillows. The last time the proximity alarms had gone off it had been a fox.  The time before that it had been a chipmunk.      

“Come on boy,” Bucky called. There was a flutter of spilled bedding as Virgil flopped to the ground, pulling the blankets with him.  The dog stood, shook out his fur, and trotted after Bucky. 

Virgil’s long nails pattered against the floor as they walked to the observation room.  Bucky did a quick check of his security cameras.  Thankfully, the alarm that had gone off was for the upper levels.  Whatever had come in might never stumble onto Bucky’s hiding place below the main bunkers.  Bucky was probably the only person still alive who remembered the lower levels of the base existed.

Still, there was always a chance someone might find out about this place.  He couldn’t take the risk that someone would find him down here.  His peace depended entirely on the world believing he was dead.  As long as one person believed he could still be found and captured Bucky would be in danger.  That was the hard lesson he had learned in Romania.

Bucky skimmed over the different camera views until a flash of motion caught his eye.  Something large moved into the line of sight of the camera lens. Bucky held his breath.  He recognized Steve in an instant from the familiar jut of his chin to the firm, confident line of his shoulders.  

The moment crystallized.  Bucky felt like a ray of sunlight being split apart by a prism.  He felt so much in that moment.  Everything faded from his mind except for the image on the screen and all he could focus on was Steve.

_ Hey Stevie, I think I used to be a little bit in love with you.  _ He cringed as the thought anchored itself in his mind.

At least he thought that’s what his feelings had been, he wasn’t sure anymore. The Bucky he was all those years ago felt so distant. That Bucky had felt so much there were days he would burst like an overripe fruit.  Now he oscillated between apathy, anger, and fear.   There was something in him that was missing, a hollow sucking void in the center of his chest and nothing he did could fill it.

Steve looked older than Bucky remembered, his face lined and more rugged.  He wondered if Steve had started getting gray hair and laughed a little at the thought.  Even through the poor resolution of the monitors he could see that time had done nothing to diminish his beauty. 

It wasn’t fair for Steve to show up now even if Bucky had been half hoping that he would.  He would only see just how ruined Bucky was and turn away in disgust.  Or worse, Steve would try to help him.  Bucky shuddered.  Help meant doctors and cages.  It meant being tied down cut open, and having strange drugs shot into his veins. And he couldn’t do it again.  He couldn’t live the rest of his life under that kind of scrutiny, not again, not even for Steve.

Bucky was tired of building sandcastles on the beach.  He was tired of reaching out for something better and then failing to grasp it.  He had worked hard to build a life for himself in Romania and all that effort had been for nothing. It didn’t matter if he was happy or not, all he wanted was to curl up someplace dark and safe.  He wanted rest.  From Brooklyn to Krausberg to Romania the one thing he had learned was that as long as Steve was a part of his life he would never be able to have that kind of peace.

He didn’t belong out there anymore.  The only place left for him was in this tomb with the rest of the failed super soldiers.

Bucky shuddered as memories rolled down on him.  He had first come to Siberia packaged in a cargo box.  He hadn’t understood what was happening to him, hell he barely understood the language.  He sometimes wondered what that other Bucky had been thinking at the time.  How frightened and helpless he must have felt.  Time and the wipes had dulled the memory of the man he was.  After all, what had come after had been so, so much worse.  Being transported like a crate of apples was nothing in comparison.  

Virgil touched his nose against Bucky’s flesh palm and whined in concern. The sound and the press of a wet tongue against his skin drew Bucky back to himself.  He wondered how long he had been staring blankly at the monitors, lost in his memories.  He blinked to clear the moisture from his eyes and checked the screens to find Steve.

Bucky watched Steve’s progress as he turned through empty rooms and walked down long dark corridors.  He waited to see what would happen.  There was a chance that Steve would never find the entrance to the lower levels of the base.  Bucky honestly wasn’t sure if that would be better or not.  The part of him that was bursting with longing and need wanted to run to Steve, to throw his arms around him and feel the heat and the strength of his body.  Another part of him, the part that cowered in terror, wanted to crawl into the deepest, darkest corner of the base and wait until Steve left before poking his head out again.  Bucky’s own indecision kept him trapped in the observation room.  Hope had meant nothing more than pain to him for so long. At least fear was familiar, who knew how to react when he was afraid.     

Bucky forced himself to focus past the fog of terror and watched Steve inspecting the sealed entrance to the lower levels of the base.   Then Bucky was running towards Steve. He had wasted all this time wondering how he should react to Steve’s presence that he had almost forgotten the trap he had set for anyone who tried to enter the hidden levels of the base.  

He had barely left of the observation room hallway when an explosion echoed through the halls of the base.  Bucky ran and prayed that Steve was still alive.

 

**Lust**

Steve made his way back to consciousness painfully, coughing as his he tried to clear the dust from his lungs.  He shuddered when a long, rough tongue swiped over his face.  The grinning face of a dog, tongue flopping carelessly from its mouth stared down at him.

“What the hell?”  said Steve, his voice slurring.

“Hah, hah, hah,” said the dog.

“  _ ABC is easy, it’s like counting up to three/sing a simple melody/ that’s how easy love can be _ ,” said Michael Jackson.

“Sam,” Steve groaned softly and looked around for his long time partner. The dog whuffed softly and pressed his cold nose against Steve’s face, snorting softly against his skin. Steve could feel every one of the dogs indrawn breaths while the animal caught his scent.

“Sam,” he called again and gagged when he ended up with a mouthful of dog tongue.  He sat up and spat, pushing the dog off of him with his forearm.  He wiped his tongue with the back of his hand and reached for his pack.  His most urgent need at that moment was water to rinse the dust and dog slobber out of his mouth.

Michael Jackson’s voice continued to fill the room. The singing was coming from his pack, which was half buried under the rubble from the explosion. He wasn’t sure how he had set off the trap; he only remembered the flash of white and the deafening noise, before the floor had cracked beneath him and sent him tumbling downwards.  He remembered hitting the ground and then nothing after that. 

It didn’t feel like he had been out for that long. He checked himself over quickly.  There were no broken bones.  He was cut and bruised and his muscles felt like they had been snapped like rubber bands.  He would only need to sit still for a few minutes for the serum to heal the worst of it.

The dog took Steve’s stillness as an invitation to climb back into his lap and continuing sniffing at his face, its wet nose and whiskers tickled Steve’s cheeks.  Steve found himself laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation he was in and the dog wagged its tail and barked happily.

He wished Sam was here.  Sam would have appreciated this situation just as much as Steve did.  Steve wasn’t sure what Sam would tease him for the most; the trap, the dog, or his music preferences.

Steve rolled to his knees and then slid across the floor to lean against the wall for a moment.  The dog watched him until he settled and then walked over to press its head against Steve’s open palm to be petted.  

Steve ran his nails over the dog's skull. There didn’t seem to be any reason to hurry. If there was anyone in the base the explosion and the volume of the music would bring them running.  Steve honestly hoped they would.  He had grown bored searching the empty base hours ago. A fight woul do him some good.

At least he now knew where the wet dog smell had come from.  He rubbed the dogs soft ears and tilted its face up for a better view. It was certainly no guard dog, despite its fierce and wolfish appearance. The dog remained cheerful and patient as Steve fumbled with its collar.  He was surprised when he found a simple silver tag with the dogs name engraved on it.

“Well, it's very nice to met you Virgil,” said Steve and he scratched the dog's cheeks.  He ruffled Virgil’s ears gently before rising to his feet and stretching cramped muscles.

Bucky burst into the hallway at a dead run. He  let out a little gasp when he saw Steve and skidded to a stop.  Bucky’s  eyes widened as he froze in place.  Steve stared back, his mouth hanging open.  

“Bucky,” Steve whispered.  He didn’t know what else to say.  All that time he had spent searching for Bucky and he had never given any thought to this conversation.    _ I miss you; I am so happy your here; Come home with me-  _ was what he wanted to say. Instead he stood there with his mouth hanging open while an old Motown song played in the background and a curious dog watched over both of them. 

The old Bucky would have smiled at him, joked about how Steve had fallen for him. He would have held out his hand and helped Steve to stand. Instead Bucky was cowering away, shrinking back in uncertainty. When he spoke it caught Steve by surprise. “Are you okay, Steve?”

Steve nodded, his lips moving like a fish sucking in water.  Bucky looked healthy and strong, if a little pale. He was dressed in black tac gear and Steve wondered just how many weapons he had hidden on him. His hair was tangled in knots and the laces of his boots were loose. He looked  as if he had just rolled out of bed and thrown on whatever he could reach before coming to see Steve.  It was the uncertainty and fear in his eyes that disturbed Steve the most.  He wanted to reach out and pull Bucky into a hug.  He wanted to bury his nose in Bucky’s  nape and breathe him in, to run his fingers through his thick, brown hair. 

“Sorry Steve. I tried to get here before you set it off,”  Bucky apologized

“S’okay Bucky. I’m fine.” He shook the dust from his hair and smiled.  He didn’t dare take a step towards Bucky. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No. Just us. Hydra left here a long time ago”

“That’s good,” Steve watched as Bucky tilted his head in the direction of the music.  At some point the song had changed.  

_ O-oh child, things are gonna get easier _

_ O-oh child, things’ll get brighter _

“Bucky, I . . . are you okay?”  Steve asked.  

Bucky seemed to shake himself out of a trace as he pulled his attention away from the song. “I’m fine Steve.  You don’t have to worry.  I haven’t hurt anyone.  I’ve been here the whole time.”  Bucky stumbled through his reply like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Steve felt like he was going to be sick.  “All alone in this base?  Since Bucharest?  Bucky, it's been years.”

Bucky looked down at his feet , his eyes darting across the floor.  He was doing anything to avoid looking at Steve. He nodded slowly.  “It was safer that way.  This is my home.”   

Bucky looked so lost and confused.  He was nothing like the Winter Soldier or the quiet, defensive mand he had met in Romania.

“What’s that Buck?”  Steve was quivering with the need to go to Bucky and hold him in place. He could barely get the other man to lok at him.  Bucky’s attention kept wondering back to the debris from the explosion. 

“ I . . . like it,” Bucky licked his lips and looked at Steve nervously before clarifying his statement.  “The music. I like it.”

Bucky had always loved music, especially a good song with a rhythm he could dance too. Steve remembered Bucky dressed to the nines with his dark hair slicked back and his trademark lopsided grin on his face.Buck would saunter up to a dame and pull her onto the dance floor with a flourish that Steve had envied. Steve would watch him, flushed red with exertion. His face open and joyful.   Steve could still remember the days when Bucky would sing along to the radio while he waltzed around the apartment using their broom as a dance partner.  He used to ask Steve to dance with him.  

Steve smiled trying to look as open and nonthreatening as possible. “Just wait until you meet Sam. He knows all about this kind of music. He calls it ‘Dad’ music.”  Steve made a lame attempt at a joke hoping to break the unbearable awkwardness of this meeting.

Fear rose in bucky’s eyes. “No,” he said, his voice cracking a little. He took a step back into the shadows. “No.”

“Buck, it's okay . . .”  Steve took a step forward and Bucky darted away.

“Bucky, wait!” Steve called, trying to understand what he had done wrong. But Bucky was already gone.

_ Some day, _

_ We'll get it together and we'll get it all done _

_ Some day _

_ When your head is much lighter _

_ Some day, _

_ We'll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun _

_ Some day _

_ When the world is much brighter _

 

**Gluttony**

 

Bucky ran.

__

It was happening again.  Steve had come for him and he was going to loose everything all over again.  No more Virgil.  No more books.  No more quiet little spaces for him to hide in.

Bucky had built a life for himself in Bucharest.  It hadn’t been anything as grandiose as Captain America’s right hand man, but it had been  _ his _ .  He had arrived in the city with a wad of cash stolen from a Hydra safe house, the clothes on his back, and a pile of broken memories that he couldn’t quite piece together.

He found the tiny apartment in one of the cities poor quarters. It was the kind of place where everyone paid in cash and no one asked too many questions.  He had only meant to stay in the city a few weeks before moving on.  

It had started with one limp, musty mattress he had bought from one of his neighbors when he got tired of sleeping on the floor.  Soon he had blankets, a new jacket, and pillows.  He had a collection of dog eared trade paperbacks he had rescued from the garbage.

He found a job at a construction company.  He learned to cook.  He spent an entire weekend deciding which type of potato chip was his favorite.  He learned to savor the tart taste of fresh fruit and how to sleep to the sounds of a city in motion.  

He eased his way into his new life carefully, testing his limits each day.  Keeping himself clean, relearning how to feed himself and when to sleep with nothing more than his broken memories had been frustrating. Overcoming the reflexive hypervigilance that had served him well as the Winter Soldier had been even harder. He hadn’t thrown himself into living so much as he had eased in one toe at a time.  The more he lived the more he wanted to live.  Waking every morning under his own power felt like a victory.

His life in Romania wasn’t perfect; he was lonely and  afraid, he carried his guilt with him constantly, he had nightmares and he fell into rages, and he cried more than he like to admit.  Bucharest was the first time Bucky had lived on his own without owing anybody anything.  Growing up he had always been responsible for someone whether it was his family, Steve, or his men in the 107th.  He had gotten so tired of sacrificing the things he wanted for other people. He had gotten tired of the  guilt and self loathing every time he wanted to have something for himself.  Duty and Responsibility had worn Bucky down to nothing long before Hydra had gotten their hands on him.

Living in Romania Bucky could do anything he wanted. It had been freeing in a way he had never experienced.  He had spent so much time taking care of others that he had never really taken care of himself.

Bucky’s needs had been so simple and he had asked for so little.  He had fooled himself into thinking that he might be able to stay in Romania until he felt ready to meet with Steve again.

Bucky choked out a sob and stumbled to a halt.  He sank to his knees and pressed his forehead against the unfeeling concrete of the bunker's walls.  His blood pounded in his ears as he panted half from exertion and half from fear.  That meeting had been too much. He had felt too much from the moment Steve had spoken to him.

And the music. . .

It had woken something in him he had nearly forgotten.  Memories of long nights and pretty girls with bright red lipstick.  He could smell the haze of cigarette smoke and sweat and perfume clogging his nostrils.  He could feel Steve’s bony shoulders shaking with laughter as they walked home from the dance halls leaning against each other back when they had been far too drunk and far too young to know any better.

He hadn’t wanted to remember being that happy.  He didn’t want to think about the music or the dance floors or bodies pressed together in celebration. He didn’t want to think about the future that had been taken away from him. That wasn’t what he was anymore.  That wasn’t his life anymore.  

He was nothing more than an experiment they had shipped to Siberia in a crate. He had been carefully packaged for the trip, gagged, stripped naked, and tied with his head forced between his knees so he could be squeezed into the box.  It was the most efficient way to minimize any noise he would make during the trip.   
  
Bucky remembered he was barely conscious when he heard the box being opened.  He gasped as was dumped onto a cold, hard, concrete floor. His restraints were cut and two pairs of hands hauled him to his knees.  

  
A pair of boots had appeared in his line of vision and a hand wrapped around his hair had hauled him to his feet. He remembered being shocked back to full awareness when ice cold water was dumped over him.  

More than that he remembered the helplessness.  There he was wet, naked, and shivering in front of his enemies. They had laughed and ran rough hands all over his body, inspecting him like he was livestock on the auction block.    
  


There were other memories, harsher and far more recent.  He was strapped into the chair waiting patiently to be hurt over and over again.  He was rising from cryo, confused, naked, and helpless begging silently for someone to comfort him as he was manhandled by two strangers.   He would wake on an operating table, his rib cage cracked wide open and his guts on display for the masked faces peering down at him.  He could still hear the wet squelch as they rummaged around his chest cavity inspecting his organs.

He had thought he had finished with that part of his life for good.  He wasn’t a thing anymore.  Then Steve had found him in Bucharest and it had started all over again. 

The fragile peace he had built for himself shattered in an instant and Bucky had been forced to run.  He spent another two years being driven across the globe by his pursuers and in that time he had learned his lesson;  He was never going to have a life for himself again.  He was never going to be any more than a weapon to be used, maintained, and discarded when he was no longer needed.  So he gave up and buried himself in the darkest tomb he could find.   

Except that somehow Steve had come to dig him out again.  Bucky was filled with a hot, inexplicable rage equal in every way to the deep affection he felt for Steve.  It was Steve, his best friend, the man he would follow into hell and back, who had left him to Zola, who had lead the people who wanted him captured right to his hiding place. Steve had no right to show up in his life after everything that had happened.

There was only one thing to be done. If Steve was unwilling to let go of him, the Bucky had no choice but to force Steve to leave.

 

 

**Greed**

 

Steve slumped back against the wall,  his arm outstretched as if he could summon Bucky back.   He stared at the empty spot where Bucky had been.  Bucky was here.  He was safe.  He was alive.  The words ran like a mantra through Steve’s head.  It didn’t matter that Bucky had been terrified of him.  If only he could convince himself that were true.

Steve gritted his teeth, his heart pounding like a jackhammer.  For a moment it was all he could do to just breathe. Emotions that had dulled with the passing of time had risen to strike at him with full force.  For one brief moment Bucky had been close enough to touch.

Steve startled out of his thoughts when he felt the cold, wet pressure of Virgil’s nose press against his pants. Steve laughed shakily and stroked the dog's muzzle. He would have expected the dog to chase after Bucky. 

Steve wiped his face with his palm, gave the dog a firm pat,  and began to dig his gear out from the rubble. Virgil watched him with his head tilted to the side before deciding he was bored and trotting off down the hallway.  Steve found that  everything he had brought with him was intact except for the music player.  

It’s  screen had cracked during the fall and the buttons were smashed.  Steve considered crushing it to put a stop to the music, but then he remembered the look on Bucky’s face when he had heard the music.  He carefully wrapped it back up and tucked it into one his pockets.  For a brief moment his music had made Bucky happy. If the songs could draw Bucky back to him then so be it.  

Steve found his flashlight and tested it before stepping out of the hallway in the direction Bucky had fled.  He hadn’t gone more than ten feet when he  heard the excited patter of paws on the concrete floors.  Virgil had returned with a bright yellow tennis ball squeezed between his teeth. He proudly dropped it in front of Steve with his tail held high and ears raised expectantly.  When Steve did not immediately pick up the ball Virgil released a soft little “boof” and bowed, his curled tail sweeping back and forth excitedly.

Steve laughed and tossed the ball down the hallway. Virgil spun around and darted, catching the ball with ease. He turned and walked toward Steve as if he meant to return the ball. Then he stopped, looked at an open door across the hall, looked back at Steve, and darted inside the room.

“Virgil, come here boy. Come, come,” he called, slapping his palms against his thighs and feeling a little ridiculous. “That’s not how you play fetch.”

The dog simply peaked out the door frame, its tongue dangling as it panted excitedly before disappearing back inside the room. Steve followed.  Virgil was Steve’s only connection to Bucky, he wasn’t about to let the dog out of his sight.  

Virgil stood in the center of the room wagging his tail. The ball was resting against the edge of a bookshelf. There was a bed, a desk, and bookshelves lining the wall. The room was lit only by a small desk lamp. All of the shelves were filled with an odd collection of books and weaponry. There was a nightstand next to the bed topped with a razor, a toothbrush, and a comb. On the desk there was a laptop and hardbound notebooks scattered across its surface. A pen rested in one of the pages of the books. A battered brown jacket was draped over the back of the desk chair.  An odd nest of blankets were clumped on the floor at the edge of the bed.

Steve stepped forward and picked up the clump of blankets. He could smell the combination of stale sweat, musk, and cigarette smoke ingrained in the fibers. His knees wobbled and he he released a soft cry as he slumped into the chair. It had been 70 years but he would know Bucky’s scent anywhere. Steve drew the jacket to his nose and inhaled deeper. His mind flashed with images of his past;Bucky sprawled in sweaty sheets and drooling as he slept after a long day at work, Bucky’s arm thrown carelessly across his shoulder as they wandered by the vendor stalls at Coney island, Bucky during the summer of ’44 grim faced and smelling faintly of gunpowder as he shoveled dirt to make a shallow grave. Steve felt the prick of tears in his eyes. 

__

He let the bedding fall onto the bed. He smiled fondly at the dog bed and the collection of dog toys that belonged to Virgil. His eyes scanned over the bookshelves that were stacked with sci fi novels.   A few copies of Popular Science and National Geographic were scattered amonst the books.  It seemed that Bucky didn’t have a preference for any one language as there were just as many books in English as there were in Russian, German, and French. 

Steve turned towards the laptop, his elbow toppling the stack of journals as he moved. He bent to pick them up and caught a flash of Bucky’s handwriting. He meant to place them all back on Bucky’s desk without looking at the contents, but then he caught a glimpse of his name. He flipped to the page and began to read.

 

_ Mission Report April 25th 2014 _

_ Operative Codename Winter Soldier _

__

_ Mission Failure.  Handler Pierce deceased.  Returned to safehouse per retrieval protocol. Waiting extraction. _

__  
  


_ Mission Report April 27th 2014 _

_ Operative Codename Winter Soldier _

__

_ Abandoned safehouse per retrieval protocol.  Attempted to contact closest Hydra cell per retrieval protocol.  Cell compromised. _

__  
  


_ Mission Report May 5th 2014 _

_ Operative Codename Winter Soldier _

__

_ Per emergency protocol agent traveling to  at base in Santa Catarina Brazil.   _

__  
  


_ Date: unknown _

_ Location:  unknown _

__

_ Operational parameters Suboptimal.  Agent requires maintenance and medical attention. _

__  
  
  


_ Agent requires medical attention.  Experiencing migraines and nosebleeds. _

__  
  


_ Agent requires medical attention.  Experiencing migraines, nosebleeds, seizures.  Elevated body temperature.  Excessive Sweating. _

__  
  
  


_ My name is James Buchanan Barnes. _

_ My name is James Buchanan Barnes. _

_ My name is James Buchanan Barnes. _

__  
  


_ Steve Rogers is my best friend. _

_ Steve Rogers is Captain America. _

_ Captain America is the man on the bridge. _

__  
  
  


_ My head hurts, but Im thinking much better today. _

__  
  
  
  


_ March 10 2015 _

_ Detroit _

_ Hey Stevie, _

_ I’ve been writing to you a lot lately.  Feels stupid seeing as you’ll never read any of this, but it helps me think.  Sometimes it feels like I’m just havin’ a conversation in my head with my old pal Steve Rogers.  I saw you on TV today.  You looked good.  I’m glad. _

_ I’m not okay Stevie. I’m not even sure if I’m myself anymore.  I keep thinkin about it, spinnin it around in my brain, but I dont know what to do about it.  I wish I had died in that fall.  At least I coulda died while I was still me. _

__

_ April 23rd 2015 _

_ Marseilles _

_ Feels like Ive been here before _

_ Stevie, _

_ You were on TV again today.  Looks like you have a good team.  I’m glad you’ve got someone to watch your back.  You're still the same idiot you always were.    _

_ Don’t forget me. _

 

 

_ July 4 2015 _

_????? _

_ I’m scared _

_ Happy Birthday.  How the hell old are we now anyway? _

__  
  
  


_ January 23rd 2016 _

_ Bucharest Romania _

__

_ Long time no speak Stevie.  Sorry ‘bout that.  I’ve had to move a few times.  Had some obsessive stalkers followin me around but I think I’ve lost them.   _

__

_ Its taken me awhile to find a place to settle.  You would like it Stevie.  It’s tiny, it stinks, its got not heating or cooling.  There is a fight in alley twice an hour.  Almost feels like Im back home.   _

__

_ Its a good place to lie low.  Kinda place where you pay in cash and nobody asks too many questions.   _

__

_ And thin walls.  I spent so much time bitchin about the neighbors noise and now I kinda like it.  I like hearing the people all around me fighting, and laughing, and living.   _

__

_ We used to be like that.  You and me fighting to get through every day.  I miss that.  Fighting and howling for no other reason than you could. _

__  
  
  


_ February 14th 2016 _

__

_ I was thinkin’ about you today Stevie.  Sorry I haven’t written for a bit.  I was thinkin’ that I have been livin here for almost a year and I haven’t gotten out to see all that much of the city.   _

_ Didn’t do all that much to be honest.  Walked around the city and tried all the food I could find.  Didn’t realize I could still eat like that Stevie.  I’ve been living out of a can for years now and whatever the hell shit Hydra was feeding me.  I had a beer Stevie.  Do you know how goddamn long its been since I had a beer? _

__

_ Hey remember when that pharmacist, forget his name, used to sell that godawful cheap gin he made in his basement.  I drank it once on a dare, I think it made me blind for two days. _

__

Steve laughed, his eyes prickling with tears.  These letters sounded so much like Bucky.  A little older, a little more cynical, but the tone and the style were Bucky through and through.  

__  
  


_ March 3rd 2016 _

__

_ My neighbor invited me over for a smoke Stevie.   _

_ I remembered stuff.  Like how I couldn’t smoke around you when you were little and then when you got big I could. _

_ And I kept smoking too.  Think it used to piss you off, like you didn’t like the smell or something.  Maybe it reminded you of when you had asthma.  I dunno. _

_ What I do know is that I knew it used to piss you off and I kept doing it anyway.  Wish I could remember why. _

__  
  


_ April 13th 2016 _

_ I thought about you today Stevie.  I think I’d like to see you again.  For the longest time I wasn’t sure, but I think I might be ready.  I wanna show you around Bucharest.  She ain’t New York, but she’s a swell dame too. _

_ And I need to talk with you- seriously, about a lot of things.  No more ‘Bullshit Barnes’ Stevie. _

_ Just, please, wait for me a little bit longer.  I’ll be home soon. _

__  
  


Steve slammed the book shut and buried his hands in his face.  He had fucked up royally and it was all there in Bucky’s own writing.  Bucky had been doing fine.  He had been living on his own terms and Steve had ruined it.  The next entry would have been written in May, the month that Steve had found Bucky and lead all of his enemies right to him.

He hadn’t understood back then what  that shitty little apartment had meant to Bucky.  All he had seen was how much Bucky didn’t have. He had only felt pity when he saw the poverty that surrounded his old friend.  The clues had all been there right in front of him; from the work schedule posted on the frige and the collection of phone numbers to the carefully arranged cinder block bookshelf in the corner.  Everything in that apartment had been something Bucky had treasured and it was all the more important because they were things that Bucky had provided for himself. 

Virgil padded over and laid his heavy head on Steve’s knee and whined bringing Steve back to himself. He smiled at the dog and petted its head. “Your right, boy. I don’t have the time to sit around reading.Let’s go find Bucky.”

 

**Wrath**

Steve followed Virgil, watching the curled tail swaying back and forth in the dark. The dog wandered forward, stopping every few steps to sniff at a spot on the floor.  Virgil was unexpected.  He had never thought of Bucky as a dog person much less the kind of dog person who would spoil his pet with toys.  Bucky had always been more interested in people then pets.  Then again, adopting an animal in need was exactly the kind of thing Bucky would do.

Steve turned the corner into a new hallway and cursed.  At the end of the path was  light from another room.  The two double doors that had sealed the room had been ripped off the hinges. Virgil kept moving forward. Steve followed once his eyes had stopped watering. 

The smell hit him before anything else.  It was the stringent odor of ammonia and bleach laying so thickly in the air it almost made him choke.  There was something else under the scent that Steve couldn’t quite place but reminded him sharply of the days he had spent visiting Peggy before she passed away.   

Polished surgical instruments gleamed beneath the surgical lights.The room was lined with surgical tables, carts, and equipment for monitoring vitals.  Every table and gurney in the room was equipped with solid metal restraints that were more than capable of holding a supersoldier.  This room itself was well maintained and cared for, even more so than Bucky’s own bedroom.  Even the sheets on the gurney’s were flawlessly white without a spec of dust on them.

“You shouldn’t be here Steve,” Bucky sounded stronger than it had after the explosion.  Bucky was speaking to him through a walkie-talkie that had been left sitting on one of the carts.

Steve swallowed roughly. “Bucky,” he whispered softly. A faint, bitter laugh that sent chills down Steve’s spine echoed from the tinny speakers. “Go away Steve.”

Steve couldn’t help but flinch.  He knew Bucky had his reasons for avoiding him, but he had hoped . . . He honestly wasn’t sure what he had hoped for.  Steve picked up the walkie-talkie and spoke into it.  “I’m not leaving you.”

“You didn’t have a problem doing that before.”

Steve’s free hand curled into a fist and his jaw tightened. “Either we walk out of here together or we don’t walk out of here at all.” He would not leave Bucky here to rot.

For a moment the only sound was Bucky’s tense breathing through the walkie-talkie. “Your call Pal. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Steve pulled a tense smile. He could hear the faint twang of Bucky’s Brooklyn accent in his voice. “I am going to find you. I am going to get you out of here.”

“Ever think that I don’t want to be found Rogers.” The cadence of Bucky’s voice changed again. He sounded angry and exhausted.

“Then why are you spending all this time leading me on Buck. It’s not like you to play hard to get.”

Bucky released a breathless laugh that ended in a stressed sob. “You stupid fuck.  I don’t need you.  Leave.”

Steve felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach and the first faint stirrings of anger.  He had thought he had outgrown the childish urge to be needed by someone.  Bucky’s words hurt in ways he hadn’t thought possible.  Of course Bucky didn’t need him.  Bucky had managed on his own for years.  It was the truth.  Steve knew that.  So why did it make him feel like someone had reached into his chest and ripped out his heart?

His thoughts were interrupted by the staticy sound of an old tape recording coming through the walkie-talkie.  A long, drawn out, wail of despair and animal suffering came through the walkie-talkie. At first Steve thought it was an animal until words started to form in between the desperate, sobbing wails.  

“Pleasepleaseplease . . . I can’t,” a choked sob. “Stop . . . I wanna die. Please.”

“Now now Sergeant Barnes,” A smooth accented voice cut through, one Steve immediately recognized as Zola. “No need to be so dramatic. You do this to yourself.”

“Noooo,” came Bucky’s plaintive whine. “I wanna …I wanna,”

“What do you want Sergeant?”

The sound of Bucky breaking down into helpless tears. The sound of a gasping indrawn breath as he fought through his terrified sobs for air. The wet sound of snot pooling in his nostrils as he cried.

Hurried footsteps tapped against a hard surface. “That is quite enough Sergeant. Either stop this nonsense or we will stop it for you.”

Bucky made a noise that was half hiccup and half gag. There was a harsh rap like chattering teeth. The sobs become muffled, but did not stop.

Zola sighed in exasperation. “Very well.”

Steve heard the thrum of running electricity, the sharp sound of a spark and Bucky was screaming. He is screaming and screaming and screaming. Steve can hear Zola’s voice speaking over the sounds of electrocution and Bucky’s horrific cries of pain.

It took far too long for Bucky’s sobs fall silent and for the electricity to stop. The magnetic tape reel cracked in time with Bucky’s ragged pants.

“You really are hopeless Sergeant Barnes, look at the mess you made. It really is quite pathetic to watch a grown man soil himself.”

Bucky’s breathing on the recording changed again. Steve could hear him straining to hold back the hysterical noises building in his throat.

“Now, now Sergeant Barnes. No more dramatics. They really are quite tiring. If you can’t learn to control yourself we will simply need to find another way of punishing you.”

Bucky began to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed until his voice broke with a sob. Then he fell silent.

“Very good Sergeant Barnes,” Zola said, his voice laced with sympathy. “I know how very hard all this is for you, poor boy. You have suffered so much since your comrades abandoned you.”

Bucky started to cry again before quickly stopping himself.

“You see Sergeant, you are learning. You see how merciful we are, that we take the time to teach even an idiot like you.”

Bucky drew a shuddery breath. “Help,” Bucky whispered, “Someone, help me.”

“Yes of course Sergeant Barnes, we are doing everything in our power to help you.”

Bucky began to laugh and the recording cut out.

Steve had gone numb.  Meaningless words spilling out , anything to keep the vomit from crawling up the back of his throat. “Bucky, why?” Steve asked, but the room remained silent.

 

 

**Heresy**

 

Bucky drifted in a half fog, letting Zola’s words slip through his fingers.  He was somewhere safe and warm surrounded by the musky scent of dog.  If he listened hard enough he could hear traffic drifting from the street below his window.  Bucky breathed deeply and sank into the dream.

Somewhere Steve was calling for him.

There had been nothing attractive about Steve before the serum. Years of illness had left the boy unnaturally pale, he had always carried around the the smell of stale sick sweat and the burnt metal odor of his blood.    He had watched Steve grow into a man always torn between his loneliness and his morals.  If was honest with himself Bucky had to admit he had always been a little jealous that no matter what happened Steve had never compromised himself.  Not once in all the years that Bucky had known him had Steve backed down from what he thought was right, no matter how much he had to sacrifice in the process.  

Bucky had done his damndest to preserve that fire in Steve; to stand by his side through the worst of it, to temper Steve’s rages when they threatened to overwhelm him.  How could he not?   Steve was the best man he had ever known.  It had always been an uphill battle keeping Steve alive.  A part of him wished things could be so simple again, that he could go back to the days when they spent all their energy focused on the struggle against poverty, starvation, and illness.  The times had been hard, but they had been good.  He had his work, and his dames, and his dance halls.  He had Steve waiting to chew him out whenever he came home late smelling of sex and cigarettes.  He wanted to go back to the time when they were on the same side and the enemies were no more complicated than the average back alley bully.

Those back alley fights were a million years in his past. The rage that had once been such an integral part of Steve was a part of Bucky now too.  He understood better now what it meant to be small, helpless, and afraid.  How those feelings translated into frustration and anger.  He could only marvel and the strength Steve had to focus that rage only at those who deserved it.  

The deep, instinctual urge to make sure Steve was fine nestled in Bucky’s  chest.  He let it pass through him until it faded.  His fingers twitched as he combed through the air grasping for the feel of wiry fur beneath his hand before remembering that Virgil had left him.

Bucky had found the little mutt on a supply run two years ago. It had started with the sound of a trash can being tipped over in an alley, followed by vicious sounding barking and growling.

Those sounds, so sharp and pitiful made him cringe.   It shook something in him, made him think of pain and electricity.  Bucky had stopped loading his jeep to look towards the alley half paralyzed by memories of his own abuse.

There was a fearsome snarl and a final string of desperate yelps.  Another crash and a dog came running out from an alleyway.  Virgil had run out from between the buildings.  He had been a puppy really, no more than a year old, with skin pulled tight around his rib cage and his paws too big for his body.   There were large patches of fur that had been torn from his back and he was bleeding from half a dozen bite wounds.

Virgil met Bucky’s eyes for a moment before a larger dog came barreling out of the alley.  It crashed into the puppy and drug it to the ground.  Bucky moved.  He tore the dog off the puppy by its scruff and tossed it backwards. 

Bucky sank to his knees and started t shake. It was just a puppy, it hadn’t deserved to be hurt like that.

A truck blew its horn at him.  The driver shouted angrily for him to move.  Bucky stood slowly and moved toward the puppy.  The truck swerved around him angrily and disappeared down the road.

Bucky stopped a few feet from the pup and crouched back down in the snow.  The little thing was shivering, its tail pressed tightly between its legs.  The creature whined and paced back and forth.  It was enough for Bucky to see the full extent of the injuries on the dogs body.  The pup took nervous glances at him as it whined.  Something deep and sorrowful stirred within Bucky.  He couldn’t leave this pathetic little dog to die in an alley somewhere. 

Bucky stepped up and took the shy dog in his arms.  The little creature whined and went rigid, but made not attempts to free itself.  He wrapped the dog in his jacket and laid it in the backseat of his jeep while he went to find a place that carried pet supplies.  When he got back home he treated the dogs wounds as best he could. 

The Little dog healed and eventually warned up to Bucky. Virgil was a gawky ball of energy with more curiosity than sense.  He liked to follow Bucky through the base as he made his rounds each day and would sleep sprawled on top of him.  Virgil was immune to Bucky’s rages and could calm him with a touch of his wet nose.  When Bucky became lost in dark memories Virgil could pull him back by doing nothing more than pressing his weight against Bucky’s legs.

It was the first time in years since Bucky had shared space with another living creature.  He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. All Virgil wanted was food, water, a warm bed, and Bucky’s attention.  The dog didn’t care that Bucky was a broken mess of a human being.  He didn’t need Bucky to follow him into a war zone to be happy.

He wished the mutt had come back with him.  If Virgil had chosen Steve then that was that.  There was nothing Bucky could do about it.  Hell, Bucky could hardly blame the dog for wanting better company.

Bucky blinked and his face grew hot.  He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about sad things right now.  That wasn’t the point.  He was trying very hard not to think about sad things.

The memory of the recording crashed back down on to him and he floundered in the chair.   Playing that recording had drained him to the core.  He wanted nothing more than to sit and drift in the comfortable nothingness he had created in his head.  He didn’t want to think or feel anymore.

He thought he was getting better.  He had meticulously cleaned the surgical room every week until he could handle all the instruments without shaking or feeling the urge to vomit all over himself. 

He looked up with his vision swimming.  Zola’s image hovered above him, his greasy face and piggy eyes glowing in the light of the surgical lamps.  He couldn’t move.  He opened his mouth to scream and no sounds came out.  

He shrieked when he heard the shrill whine of a bone saw and arched forward as he tried to wriggle away.  He clamped his hands over his ears so he didn’t have to listen to the terrible sound  He could feel the chips of his humerus pelting against his skin and could smell his own meat burning.

There were hands on him, pressing him against the cold of the surgical table, holding him down when he fought the restraints.  They wiped the shit, piss, and vomit off him between procedures.  He could feel them, cold and impersonal, roving over his body, adjusting it to better accommodate their tests.

There was no one who cared when he was hurting or sick.  He was nothing more than a body to be used until it broke.  And it did break- again and again and again, only to be repaired to be used once more.

Zola had stripped him of all those pretty lies he had told himself.  He had been emptied of all the things that had held Bucky Barnes together after Krausburg.  He wasn’t the sharpshooter of the Howling Commandos or best friends with Steve Rogers anymore, he was a worn sack of meat spread out on a surgical table.  He was shattered bones and rotting flesh.  He was whatever Zola wanted him to be.

Over and over, he had begged Zola to let him die until he had given up on death.   Zola took the emptied out carcass of the former Bucky Barnes and filled it back up again.  He became a creature of blood, pain, and wrath kept in check only because he feared his masters.

Bucky sat limp to those memories replaying them over and over again wondering if he could have found a way to die if he had only tried harder. He had never been a good person, but there was a time when he believed that he had done more good than harm.  He wished he could be that young and ignorant again..

As his thoughts spiraled down into ever darker corridors he heard a voice.  It wasn’t Steve this time and the novelty of it caught his attention. He focused on the voice until he could hear the words of a song coming through the walkie-talkie that was paired with the one he had left for Steve.  

_ Sittin' in the morning sun _

_ I'll be sittin' when the evening comes _

_ Watching the ships roll in _

_ Then I watch them roll away again, yeah _

_ I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay _

_ Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh _

_ I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay _

_ Wastin' time _

Bucky sank back into the worn office chair.   His eyes refocused on the screens in the observation room.  Steve was moving down to the lower levels with Virgil still trotting along beside him. His act in the lab hadn’t accomplished a thing.  Steve was still coming for him.   Bucky buried his face in his hands and wept.

_ Sittin' here resting my bones _

_ And this loneliness won't leave me alone, listen _

_ Two thousand miles I roam _

_ Just to make this dock my home, now _

_ I'm just gon' sit at the dock of a bay _

_ Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh _

_ Sittin' on the dock of the bay _

_ Wastin' time _

 

**Violence**

Music filled the silence, but Steve barely heard it. Bucky’s erratic behavior worried him.  He had been right not to leave.  Bucky had come back to this base to torture himself and in a way Steve understood.  He had been where Bucky was standing before.  He knew the self loathing and guilt that had driven Bucky to come here.  If not for the friends he had made in this century Steve may very well have ended up like Bucky.  He wondered just how long Buck had locked himself down here, his mind slipping away each day he stayed in isolation.  Steve couldn’t let that happen.  

Steve had finally reached a place in his life where he could admit to himself that he was exhausted. So much had happened since Rebirth there were times Steve could barely wrap his head around it. There had been barely any time for him to properly rest and get his head screwed on straight.  It had been that way for years.  Steve stepped into his role as Captain America only to be bounced from one crisis to another.  He felt those lost years more painfully than ever.  He wondered what kind of man he would be if he had allowed Steve Rogers to grow into himself without the burden of Captain America hanging on his ever action.

Steve coould not deny that the skinny asthmatic from Brooklyn was still a part of him. So much of who Steve was had its roots in lessons that kid had learned from Bucky Barnes.  Bucky had loved him when he had been nothing more than an angry child bearing his teeth at the world and for that Steve would always love him.  

For so many years Bucky was Steve’s rock. He had never felt safer than when Bucky was with him.  For all the times he was sick and had woken to the feel of Bucky’s muscled back pressed against his own- there had been no greater reassurance in the world. He had spent so much time sketching the broad stretch of his shoulders and the way he smirked with just the left side of his lips curling.  

Bucky loved people, more than that, he loved to make other people happy.  He had worked so hard to look after his family and Steve.  But there were times, usually after Bucky had one too many, that he had let that mask slip.  Steve knew just how much the responsibility had worn on him, how he used that charm and humor to hide the pieces of himself he didn’t want others to see.  

Steve had been humbled each time Bucky had chosen to confide in him.  Everyone loved Bucky, but Steve was the only one who truly knew who Bucky was beneath that public show of confidence.  He had relied on Bucky so much back then and he liked to think that in his own way Bucky had relied on him.

After Krausburg Steve had known there was something fundamentally different about Bucky.  A man so recently pulled off the rack should never have been able to march back to Azzano on his own two feet.  There had been a thousand little signs that something was wrong, that things had changed;  and at every instance Steve had ignored those signs.  He knew Bucky had been lying to him every time he said he was fine.  He had given the man his space every time he said he didn’t want to talk about it.  That had been one of the worst mistakes Steve had ever made.

They had both spent too much time talking around each other, never addressing the growing fissure in their friendship. They had never regained the closeness they had shared in Brooklyn. Steve had always believed that they would find the time after the war.  

Steve could not turn back time to change what had happened.  In spite of everything he had lived a good life and while he had grieved for Bucky, he had slowly come to accept that what had happened on that train had not been his fault.  All he wanted now was to move forward. 

Virgil barked and Steve was driven from his reverie.  The next thing he knew a flying ball of fur and tongue was leaping towards his face.  He instinctively reached out to catch the dog.  Virgil yipped happily and squirmed in Steve’s arms pressing his nose and tongue against Steve’s face.

Steve laughed and turned his face away while wiping off the dog slobber.  “I’m glad Bucky had you,” he said.

“Hah hah hah,”  Virgil panted happily and swiped his tongue at Steve’s chin.

Steve laughed again.  With his mission accomplished, Virgil wiggled free and dropped onto the floor.  He walked a few feet with his tail raised high and then came to a dead stop,  his ears rotating back and forth, and nose twitching excitedly.  Virgil gave an excited bark and galloped down the hall.  Without thinking, Steve followed him. Steve didn’t want to lose sight of the dog.  Virgil was Bucky’s dog and the only link he had to his old friend.  Just having the dog with him helped calm Steve’s nerves.  Virgil had a sixth sense for knowing when Steve was brooding and distressed and would act to pull him out of those moods.  Bucky had been the same way.  Steve couldn’t count the number of times he had used his charisma to pull Steve out of bad moods or shield him from fights he couldn’t win.

Virgil skidded to a stop at the end of the hall and started frantically barking at the closed door.  Steve ripped it open.

Papers fluttered around the room.  Steve peered in and took stock while Virgil marched inside with his head and tail held erect.  It was an office.  Steve frowned and followed Virgil. He panned his flashlight over the desks and the floor.  File cabinets and been tipped over and their contents thrown across the room like confetti.  Steve and Virgil couldn’t walk across the room without paper crinkling beneath their feet.

In the thin beam of his flashlight Steve saw a grainy photograph of Bucky paper clipped to a stack of papers.  Steve stopped and took a breath then bent to pick up the photo.  It was Bucky in uniform surrounded by soldiers toasting and cheering.  Steve let the photo drop onto a desktop.  A few feet away he found another set of photos, it was a village burning.  Here were rows of bloodied bodies, and there were state funerals.

Steve frantically checked the room.  There were hundreds of different documents, some with photographs and others without. 

He flipped through pages and pages eyes skimming over the words 

__

_ Mission Report  5 November 1954 _

_ Preliminary evaluation mission successful.  Agent  successfully crossed border into West Berlin and integrated with US and UK servicement without rousing suspicion.  At 0245 target eliminated  after Jeep overturns.  Crash not investigated.  Agent returned to handlers without incident.  Agent approved for more difficult field missions.  Heil Hydra. _

__

_ Mission Report  22 November 1963 _

_ Mission Successful.  Target eliminated.  Agent extracted with no complications.  Heil Hydra _

__

_ Mission Report 12 December 1962 _

_ Mission Successful.  Targets eliminated with extreme prejuidice.  Escalation in area continues.  Agent will remain in area for the forseeable future.  Heil Hydra. _

Steve kept reading and the words started to blur together.

__

_ MissionreportWinterSoldierMissionSuccessHeilHydra. Lebanon1982Kuwait1991Somalia1993Bosnia1994Kosovo1999. _

__

The documents spanned decades.  More often then not the files came with full color photos of the atrocities Bucky had committed.    Mass graves, dead children, refugees slowly starving to death. With each atrocity came HYDRA celebrating the efficiency of their weapon.  

Twelve high profile assassinations Natasha had told him and he had never really thought beyond that.  These were the nameless faceless people Hydra had destroyed to create their new world order.   

There would be no justice for these people. Thousands of innocent people over decades left to rot in the ground for political expediency, people who had loved and laughed and lived.  People who had been no different from the two Brooklyn boys who had struggled to survive during the depression. Steve ached for them  He wished he could give back to the dead, to leave them some kind of monument.

It was just like the surgical room.  Steve wondered how many times Bucky had come here to pour over the old documents.  Bucky in the journals had been so different from the man he met in the tunnels and now Steve knew why.  This would be enough  to break any man.

__

Steve slumped amongst the scattered papers and buried his face in his hands.  Bucky had fallen so far and Steve didn’t know if he could pull him back out again.

__

**Fraud**

It was a bitter feeling to finally understand how much captain America and the Winter Soldier had in common.  No matter how Steve tried to justify what he had done uninvolved people had suffered for his choices.  Both of them were weapons.  He had been manipulated and used just as much as Bucky had.  He was certain that there was a file room somewhere with all of Captain America’s victims; unimportant, normal people who were now nothing more than numbers in collateral damage report.

There were people in the world whose lives had been destroyed by Captain America.  Steve never took the time to think of them.  The guilt would crush him if he did.  Those were the people he had wanted to help the most; the guys like him who had been shuffled into a corner and trampled by those with power. Somewhere along the line he had forgotten them in his campaign to save the world. Like the Winter Soldiers victims, they would never see justice for what Captain America had done to them.  

Steve had no choice but to accept the rage and hate of his victims.  After all, the only alternative would have been to do nothing at all and the consequences of that would have been worse.  Bucky wouldn’t have been able to protect himself from guilt with that kind of thinking.  His actions hadn’t been his choice and in the wake of Hydra’s fall there was no one left to take on the responsibility but him. 

Steve wondered what Erskine would think of him and the life he had lived.  The small fatherless boy that would always be a part of him wished he could go back and ask him; Did I do the right thing?  Did I live a good life?  Sometimes those questions still plagued him and he wished he had someone to give him the answers.   It was one weakness he had never outgrown and probably never would.  Maybe that was why he had been so determined to force the world to make sense.

Virgil sighed and settled his head against Steve’s thigh.  He looked up at Steve and licked his lips nervously.  The silence was too deep and the dark was too suffocating.  Steve felt it closing in on him like a vice.  He had learned too much today. It would take time for him to process all the disgust and grief he was feeling right now.

That was the true reason Steve had been pulling away from the Avengers.  After everything that had happened he had lost a little bit of that optimism and hope that had fueled him for so long.  Captain America should shine as a beacon of inspiration and Steve Rogers the man was no longer capable of that.  He didn’t think he had fallen into cynicism, but when he looked at the young Avengers he felt like he was missing something inside himself, something vital to their mission.

Virgil gave a little sound that was half whimper and half howl.  Steve patted the top of his head.  “Let’s go boy,” he said softly.  There was nothing more to be gained by staying in the room. 

So they walked on with Steve brooding silently.  Even Virgil’s antics were subdued.  He was staying close, pressing the weight of his body against Steve’s legs as they went back out into the darkened hallways. 

The music played softly in the darkness. Steve moved forward encouraged more by stubborn determination than any hope he had that Bucky would come back with him.  He felt like an old man.  This base was a hollowed out tomb cursed by the horrors that had happened within its walls. It should have been demolished and left to be reclaimed by the wilds of Siberia.

Steve startled when he saw the low glow of light coming from a doorway.  It looked like the low phosphorus glow of an old CRT television.  Steve strode forward half hoping that d Bucky to be in that room and almost certain it was just another set up. 

It was a surveillance room.  Steve blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding.  He frowned as he looked into the bank of monitors.  The equipment was ancient and spliced together haphazardly.  He supposed that like everything else, Bucky had been making due with what was available to him. 

Steve slumped into an office chair that was still warm with Bucky’s heat.  Virgil flopped next to him and licked his dangling fingers.  He had been so close this time.  If he had been just a little faster he might have gotten here in time to see Bucky.

Steve buried his face in his hands and sighed. The game of cat and mouse was now apparent for what it was.  He had followed Bucky’s breadcrum trail for hours without seeing the man himself.  Bucky had no intention of letting Steve catch up with him.  

Steve was very suddenly reminded of Wanda after they had rescued her from the arc.  She had been sullen and frightened, her anger bursting out of her when she couldn’t control her fear anymore.  She hadn’t been all that interested in talking, but she had shown them in little ways just what had happened to her.  Sometimes it would be nothing more than letting them see the bruises on her wrists, other times she would leave littles notes talking about her time in the prison where others could easily find them and read them.  It had helped her heal in her own way until she had been ready to talk about it more directly.

Maybe in some small way Bucky was trying to reach past his fear and his anger and communicate with Steve.  It seemed unlikely that the exact journals and files Steve needed to read had been left laying out that way otherwise.  If that were true, Steve had completely misinterpreted the situation.  He looked up towards the screens for any sign of movement.   He had spent so much time respecting Bucky’s silence, but maybe that wasn’t what Bucky wanted at all, maybe he had been waiting for Steve to reach out to him.  Steve picked up his walkie-talkie and spoke into it.

“Bucky,”  Steve paused before continuing.  “Sorry for making you wait so long.  I get it now.  What you have been trying to tell me.  I really do.  And I’m sorry,” Steve laughed a little.  “We’ll I guess you know how hardheaded I can be.  I’m on my way now and I promise I will take care of everything.  Just please, let me know where you are.”

There was silence for a long time.  “Buck,” Steve started again, licked his dry lips and continued. “We’re the same you know.  You an’ me. I see that now. I don’t know what’s going through your head right now, but we’re the only ones left, ya know?  There isn’t anyone else who knows me like you do. Nothing you can show me is gonna make me give up on you.”

Steve waited with clenched fists through the long silence.  Finally, warbled and Bucky began to speak.  “Elevator, at the end of the hallway.  Take it down.  I’ll be waiting.”

 

**Treachery**

Steve rested his head against the back of the elevator as he made his descent to the lowest level of the base.  Virgil pressed against him and licked his palm.  The slow shift of the gears and the creaking of the cable grated on Steve’s nerves.  

The elevator groaned and settled with a heavy thud.   Steve knotted his hands in Virgil’s scruff and they stepped onto floors that were half frozen in ice. Virgil released a growl that was half a whine and Steve ran his hands over Virgil’s raised hackles in a soothing gesture. “Guess he never brought you this far did he, boy,” Steve murmured softly.  

The room was dark and cold. Six cryo containment chambers were placed around a deep pit.  Five of the chambers held bluing corpses only half preserved by the failing cryo system that was leaking coolant into the room.  The sixth chamber was empty. 

Steve stepped to the edge of the pit.  Bucky looked up from his seat in a calibration chair placed at the center of the pit. Surrounded by the black and silver of the chair he looked like a mad king ruling over an icy, dead kingdom.

Steve searched Bucky’s eyes for a hint of warmth. He released the hold he had on Virgil who stood stiffly at the edge of the pit, groaning and growling with his tail erect.  Steve felt an ugly lump rise in his throat. He was almost close enough to touch,but he might as well been back in the states for all the distance between them.

“I thought I should come down here. I thought it would be better,” Bucky said and then he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands.  The illusion of arrogance and strength shattered in an instant.

“Why would you think that Buck?”  Steve asked softly.  Steve waited on Bucky to decide how this would all play out.

Bucky lifted his head and frowned. “Dunno, can’t remember.  ‘s hard to think sometimes. Sometimes I forget why I do things.”

Steve frowned watching the slight tilt of Bucky’s lips as he spoke. He sighed. “Buck, its fine if you don’t want to tell me. You don’t have to lie to me, okay.”  Steve took his first step into the pit. He heard the the uncertain patter of Virgil’s paws as the dog shuffled nervously behind him.

“Why are you here Steve? Gonna take me back, put me in a cage.” 

“No Buck.” He chuckled. “I wanted to see you again. That’s it. I just wanted to see you and know that you were okay. Didn’t have a plan for what happens after that.”

Bucky laughed. It was a strong, pure sound that was familiar to Steve as the back alleys around his old Brooklyn Apartment. “You never did learn to think before you leaped.”

“No I didn’t,” Steve allowed himself one strained smile in return. He made it down the stairs of the pit and stood stock still.  Bucky was so close, only a few steps and he would be within arms length.

Bucky’s smile disappeared. “It’s them,” he said inclining his head toward the frozen corpses in the cryo chambers. “I thought we should all stay together,” Bucky chewed his lip before speaking again. “We’re all monsters here. Steve, you shouldn’t have come. This place was meant for us.”

Steve closed the final distance between them. “Bucky, I’m not leaving without you.”  He reached out and rested a warm hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky screamed in rage.  He surged forward with a sudden violence that sent Steve tumbling to the ground.  Steve tucked and rolled,  sliding on as he was pushed back.  “GET OUT!,” Bucky shouted. “I don’t want you here, I don’t need you here. Just leave.”

Steve dodged a hastily thrown punch and looked back at Bucky.   His old friend was heaving like a wounded bull, face contorted in a snarl. Bucky charged and Steve readied himself for the blow. He could hear Virgil barking frantically, but it faded to the background as Bucky’s boot dug into his abdomen. Steve released a breathy woosh of air and stumbled backwards. He sucked in a breath and shouted, “Bucky Stop!”  

Then they were grappling with one another, a dance of hands and fists and feet.  Bucky met him with raised fists and bared teeth.  Steve blocked the strike, unable to bring himself to hit back.  Bucky lashed out with a kick and Steve dodged.  Again and again Bucky lashed out and Steve refused to attack.  

The clumsy, half hearted punches and kicks were not the vicious, controlled attacks of the Winter Soldier.  These attacks belonged only to a Bucky Barnes that had been worn down to nothing. Bucky was begging Steve to put him down.

The thought disgusted Steve to the very depth of his bones.  Bucky made to strike him again and this time Steve caught his arm and flipped him easily, pinning him against the floor.

Bucky roared in defiance and struggled wildly spitting curses.  Foam flecked his lips and his words devolved into feral growls.  Steve tried to keep from crying.  His tears wouldn’t help Bucky right now.  Instead he held him gently until his fit passed.  The rage melted away and Bucky started to weep.

Steve released Bucky.  He watched as his oldest friend and man he had looked up to for half his life curl up on the floor like a lost child.  He sat near Bucky, close enough to intervene if he needed to.  

Finally, Bucky gasped and went limp, all the frantic energy drained out of him. “Please, Steve, please. Just let me go. Don’t make me go back.”

Steve rolled away giving Bucky space to sit up. “Just . . .talk to me Buck.”

 

_ If you ever change your mind _

_ About leaving, leaving me behind _

_ Oh, oh, bring it to me _

_ Bring your sweet loving _

_ Bring it on home to me _

 

“I can’t go back Steve. I thought I could. I tried. I tried. But I can’t . . .”

“I could help you Buck. We could figure it out.” Steve said softly.

 

_ You know I'll always be your slave _

_ 'Till I'm buried, buried in my grave _

_ Oh, honey bring it to me _

_ Bring your sweet loving _

_ Bring it on home to me _

 

Bucky laughed bitterly. “That’s the problem Steve. I don’t wanna figure it out. I don’t wanna fight anymore. Not with this.”

“Bucky . . .”

“I just want it to be over Steve. Can we just let it be over?”

Steve swallowed. “The day you fell was the worst day of my life you know? And maybe I moved on from there and I was able to build a life for myself without you. I figured out how to do it on my own Bucky. I don’t need you to protect me anymore. So if you really want this I can let you go.”

Steve listened as Bucky shifted and tried not to look at the other man's face. “But Bucky, things are better when you are with me. It’s the truth. So I might not need you to come, but I want you to come with me.”

Steve drew a long breath before continuing.  The words he said next were some of the hardest he had ever said in his life.  “But I’m not going to force you to leave if its not what you want,” Steve finished with a sigh.

 

_ One more thing _

_ I tried to treat you right _

_ But you stayed out, stayed out at night _

_ But I forgive you, bring it to me _

_ Bring your sweet loving _

_ Bring it on home to me _

Steve was out of things to say.  The only thing left was the music and the strained sound of Bucky’s breathing. This was it.  The end of the line.  Their relationship had changed and grown and been stretched to the breaking.  They both were in love with the memory of what they used to be.  Steve hoped that somewhere beneath all of those years they would be able to find the steadfast affection that had kept them together through a depression, a war, and a world that wanted them dead for who they loved.  

Virgil cautiously descended into the pit after Steve and Bucky. Steve dared to look as the dog pressed into Bucky’s body and curled with his nose pressed against his plumy tail. Bucky curled his fingers and absently stroked the dog’s fur.

The tension of a few moments ago had passed like it had never happened.  It reminded Steve a little of the calm after a battle.  Everything that needed to be said had been laid out between them.  The hardest part was over and all that was left was the choice that needed to be made.

Bucky shifted from his fetal position and pressed his spine against Steve’s knees.  It had been far too long since they had sat together like this.  For a moment Steve thought he had fallen asleep. 

“I don’t know. I can’t go back out there. Live the way you do, not anymore. I don’t know anyone and I don’t know how to know anyone anymore. The things they did to me,” Bucky released a full body shudder and Virgil whined in concern, “The things they did. I ain’t never gonna be right Stevie. Never again. An’ I can’t stand to think about it,” Bucky was crying. “I wanna be the Bucky from before. The one who could go dancing with pretty dames and could haggle with Mrs. Overford ‘bout the price of oranges.”

For a moment Steve didn’t know what to say. “I’m not the same as I was back then either,” he said softly.

“But you’re you,” Bucky argued back. “You’re more you than you’ve ever been.”

“No I’m not Bucky. I had to leave pieces of myself behind too. I’m managing same as you.” 

Bucky was looking at him, glancing shyly through his hair.

“I’m sorry that you were left on your own for so long Buck. But you should know, things can be good. Life can be beautiful even if you are broken and not quite right. Now that it’s over we can do anything. We can see the Grand Canyon and the redwood forests. We can drive out to monument valley and watch the sun come up. It doesn’t matter because you and I have all the time in the world.”

Bucky’s face screwed up and it looked like he was going to start crying again. “We,” he asked breathlessly.

“Yeah. We. Us. Together.”

Bucky raised his head and slowly sat up. His eyes were bright with the tears he had just shed.  When he spoke he sounded hopeful. “I think that I could try, if you were there. I think that maybe it would be worth it.”

Steve reached for Bucky’s hand and twined their fingers together.  He wanted to lean in and kiss the man sitting with him.  Maybe someday when they were both stronger he would be able to do that.  For now, it would be enough for them to relearn each other after so many years apart.  “I am ready to try if you are Buck.  What happens from here on out, it’s your choice.”

Bucky climbed to his feet and drew a deep breath.  “Well then, I think I’m ready to blow this joint,” he said with a trembling voice.

 

**Purgatory**

“There are tunnels down here.  They lead back up to the surface.  Takes you out a few miles, but it’s quicker than retracing our way through the base,” Bucky said.  Steve got the feeling that neither of them really wanted to go back the way they came.  

“We’ll you did blow a big hole in the floor,”  Steve ribbed gently.  “ Is there anything you want to bring with you?”

“Got my dog Steve.  The rest can stay here and rot.”  Bucky glanced pointedly back at the chair and the half frozen corpses of the other Winter Soldiers.  Steve remained silent, letting Bucky take all the time he needed to process what was happening.  Bucky had spent seventy years as a prisoner of Hydra and even after they were gone he had not been able to shake himself free of their grasp.  Steve didn’t believe that what had happened here today would automatically bring Bucky peace.  They would be dealing with what had happened here for the rest of their lives.

The prospect didn’t seem as intimidating as it once had.  Steve placed his hand on Virgil’s head.  “I didn’t know you liked dogs.”

“I didn’t, not at first.  This little guy kinda grew on me.”  Bucky licked his lips and looked up at Steve.  “He reminded me of you.”

 

* * *

 

 

They didn’t make it very far down the secret tunnels before they had to stop and rest.  Their exhaustion was just as much emotional and mental as it was physical.  Bucky and Steve settled across from each other in the tunnel, their backs pressed against the rough natural rock that had been blasted away to form the passage.   Virgil could barely contain his excitement and tried to pull Steve and Bucky deeper into the tunnels.  Eventually he gave up, settling at Bucky’s side with a put upon sigh. 

“Steve . . .”  Bucky’s brow was crinkled in thought.  His voice had softened back to the same tone Steve had heard when the first met.  

“Yeah.”

“The Black Widow, Natalia.  Is she okay?  Is she happy?”  

“Yeah, Buck, she is.”

“Good.  I’m glad.”

“I didn’t know you knew her,”  Steve said mildly.  “She never mentioned knowing you.”a

“It was a long time ago. They made me forget her.  Maybe they made her forget too.”

“Maybe.”  Steve couldn’t say one way or the other.  Natasha was so good at hiding what was going on in her head.

“Did you know her real well?”  Bucky asked.

“Yeah.  She’s been a good friend to me.   Can’t imagine what I would have done without her.”

“Stevie, I’m real glad you had people watching out for you all this time.”

Steve stayed silent for a moment.  He wished that someone had been watching out for Bucky during those years although it didn’t seem right to say it out loud.  There was no point in rubbing salt in Bucky’s wounds.

“What about the rest of your team, that Sam you mentioned earlier, and everyone I saw with you on TV?”

Steve smiled and started to talk about the Avengers. He told Bucky about Sam and the unreserved friendship he had offered not only to Captain America, but to Steve Rogers.  He recounted every petty argument he had ever had with Tony and spoke with true admiration when recounting his engineering genius.  He talked about Clint’s astounding skills and Wanda’s quiet courage. He went on for hours talking about the Asgardians and their all too human family feud.  He never talked about the joys and sorrows he had shared with the Avengers with another person.

When he finished he stopped to pass out the food and water he had stored in his pack.  They ate together as the music played around them.

“I’m sorry about Romania,”  Steve apologized. “I hope that someday you will be able to talk about your life in Bucharest.”

Bucky looked down at his feet. “It’s fine Steve.  It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” Steve had to hold back the growl in his voice.  He hated seeing Bucky so worn down and unwilling to stand up for himself. “I fucked it all up Buck.  You were happy there and I just barged in and took it all away from you.  I should have trusted you more.”

Bucky glanced up in surprise, a slight blush forming across his cheeks.  “I almost killed you.  You didn’t have any reason to trust me.”

“No.  No, Buck. I know you. I should have let you make your own decisions. I thought I was protecting you from Hydra, not leading them right to you. If I had used my brain for a minute I would have realized that you were better equipped to deal with Hydra than I was.”

Bucky sighed. “We’ll you always were a little slow on the uptake. I was pissed Stevie. I still am. But, I understand why you did what you did. I probably woulda done the same if our positions were reversed. Doesn’t mean I’m ready to talk about it yet.”

“I didn’t think you were. When your ready.”

Bucky nodded and met Steve’s eyes. There was another long silence when Bucky asked, “Stevie, what the hell are we listening to?”

Steve had never turned off the music player even though he hadn’t really been listening to it.  He dug the damaged device out of one of his pockets and tossed it to Bucky.  He chuckled a little and made a note to buy another. He hadn’t thought it was possible for the battery to last as long as it had. 

Steve listened to the song and as the notes washed over him he tilted his head back and smiled softly.  “Just keep listening Buck.”

 

_ When the night has come _

_ And the land is dark _

_ And the moon is the only light we'll see _

_ No, I won't be afraid _

_ Oh, I won't be afraid _

_ Just as long as you stand _

_ Stand by me _

 

_ So darlin', darlin' _

_ Stand by me, oh, stand by me _

_ Oh, stand, stand by me _

_ Stand by me _

 

_ If the sky that we look upon _

_ Should tumble and fall _

_ Or the mountain should crumble to the sea _

_ I won't cry, I won't cry _

_ No, I won't shed a tear _

_ Just as long as you stand _

_ Stand by me _

 

_ And darlin', darlin' _

_ Stand by me, oh, stand by me _

_ Oh, stand now, stand by me _

_ Stand by me _

 

_ Darlin', darlin' _

_ Stand by me, oh, stand by me _

_ Oh, stand now, stand by me _

_ Stand by me _

_ Whenever you're in trouble, won't you stand by me? _

_ Oh, stand by me _

_ Won't you stand now? _

_ Oh, stand, stand by me _

_ When all of our friends is gone _

  
  
  


Bucky listened with his eyes half closed and his foot tapping to the rhythm of the bass.  He was almost smiling. “. . .Is there more?” He asked when it was over.

“Lots more Buck.”

“It’s a swell song Stevie.”

“Yeah it is.”

“You n’ me, we should definitely dance to it someday.”

Bucky was looking directly at Steve.  His face was caught somewhere between pleading and uncertainty.  Steve had never in his life gone dancing with Bucky and he could only wonder at the courage that had caused Bucky to ask him now.

“We will definitely go dancing Bucky, once we get out of here.  I can’t wait to see your moves.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve used to dream about the final moments of his plane crash.  He would wake up amongst a mountain of sweat soaked comforters shaking with the memory of the cold.  It had taken years for those dreams to dissipate and while he had learned to tolerate the chill it always left a sour fear taste in his mouth.

The cold didn’t bother Steve so much anymore, but he had forgotten what it was like to enjoy the cold.  Brooklyn winters had been miserable and he had spent most of them bedridden, but Bucky had been with him.  He could remember the days when Bucky would burst into his bedroom when he was sick.   They would huddle under the blankets together reading comic books until the words started to blur together and they would fall asleep curled around each other.  He remembered the cold on other days when he felt well enough to go outside and how it felt to have Bucky throw an arm over his shoulders and lean into his side.  Those days had been softer when Bucky had been there to share it with him.

He was reminded of this as they started to rise from the darkness of the caves and step out into the sunlight. Steve could see Bucky relax, his whole body loosening as he stepped out.  Bucky closed his eyes and inhaled the chill deep into his lungs. 

Bucky smiled.  It was a soft, tentative thing that had no resemblance to the bright, cocky smirk he wore so often in their childhood.  Steve thought it suited the man he was now.  Something tight loosened in Steve’s chest. He had been chasing after Bucky since he was a child and there were times he thought he would never catch him.  It was strange to think that after everything that had happened they had ended up that they would end up walking side by side.

Virgil was the last to leave the tunnels.  The dog sniffed cautiously at the ground before shaking himself off and walking out.  He explored the dirt with his nose for a moment before squatting to relieve himself.  With that taken care of he barked frantically at Bucky accentuating the noise with a playful bow before taking off at a gallop. Bucky laughed at the dog’s antics and jogged to catch up with him.  Steve couldn’t suppress the smile that blossomed over his face.

Steve could see the base in the distance.  They must have walked for miles through the tunnels.  It would take him hours to get back to the quinjet.  Steve didn’t really want to go back.  For the first time in his life he felt like there was more than the duties and responsibilities he had chosen for himself.  He was starving for something that duty could not satisfy.  There was so much he wanted to do.   The whole wide world was spread out before him in the morning light and he had Bucky with him again.  He could hardly wait to get started.

“Let’s get going,” Steve said, resolutely turning his back on the base and the quinjet.  

“Where are we going?” Bucky asked as he looked up from shaking Virgil’s jowls playfully. 

Steve laughed.  He thought about the past and the future.  He thought about the strange fate that had brought them together again after so many years.  Maybe this time they were ready to build a life together. Steve could hardly wait.

Steve walked over to Bucky, took his hand and pulled him up.  He took Bucky by the hand.  “The future,” was all he said as he guided them into the wilderness. 

 

**Paradise**

Sam Wilson was too damn old for this shit.  

Five years after Steve Rogers had dropped off the face of the earth the good people of New York City had seen fit to hold a memorial service for him.  It was the kind of gesture Steve would have absolutely hated, which is probably why they waited until he was ‘dead’ to do it.  Of course, as Cap’s former right hand man and successor Sam was expected to speak at the event.  As if he had nothing better to do with his time.

Steve was an asshole and if Sam ever saw him again he was going to make Steve pay for this, somehow.  It was bad enough Steve had left him hanging in Siberia to canoodle with his brainwashed boyfriend but forcing him to give a speech at his pseudo-funeral when Sam knew he wasn’t dead was ridiculous.

Sam remembered his fear when Steve didn’t report in and he couldn’t raise him on any of the communication lines.  He had waited anxiously while the new team went to the base to see if they could find out what happened.  Sam had spent his time split between feeling guilty over letting Steve leave on his own and frightened that Steve was dead.

The team hadn’t found Steve at the base, but that didn’t mean they came back empty handed.  Steve had been right; the Winter Soldier had been living at the base for years.  They had found the Soldiers journal and the files Hydra had kept on his missions.  Most of it was so old that it was no longer relevant.  The techs had gone in and catalogued everything they could get their hands on before the base was destroyed.  If there was a box of dog toys filed in a top secret archive somewhere that was certainly none of Sam’s business.

Steve and Bucky were nowhere to be found.  At first Sam had thought that Bucky had simply killed Steve, buried the body, and disappeared again.  In a grief driven rage he had spent weeks combing through Bucky’s journals to try and find a clue as to where Bucky might have disappeared to, but as he read he was forced to admit that Steve had been right about Bucky all along.  Bucky Barnes was the kind of man who could be saved.

One thing Sam knew was that Bucky Barnes had been completely and hopelessly in love with Steve Rogers.  There was no way the man who wrote those journals would have been able to kill Steve.  Once he had understood that Sam directed his anger at Steve.  He could completely support Steve’s need to fuck off to the middle of nowhere; it was how he did it that pissed Sam off.  He could have at least let his friends know he was alive.

Sam adjusted his tie and read over his the notes he had taken for his speech.  He really didn’t want to get up in front of these people to sing the praises of some asshole who had disappeared on him years ago. 

Speaking of old friends, he caught the flash of red hair in the crowd as Natasha approached him.  Sam smiled and watched her approach with a stab of jealousy.  He wished he could still move as easily as the Widow.  He had needed a cane to get around for years.  Natasha still moved like she had the knees of a twenty year old.

“Nat,” Sam waved her over.  “Where have you been?”

Her smile was as mysterious and inviting as ever, but there was genuine warmth in her eyes that she only showed to her friends.  “Sam.  Good to see you,” as she stepped in to his embrace.  “Oh I’ve been around.  Here and there.” She arched her eyebrows playfully and grinned.  “What brings you out this fine morning?”

“You know damn well what brings me out this morning, Nat. Although I have to say I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Nat gave a little shrug and stared at the podium. Sam wondered if she knew where Steve and Bucky had holed up.  Natasha was a terrifyingly competent woman.  Sam found it hard to believe that anyone would be able to hide from her for long.  She probably knew where they were and had just never said anything about it.  After all, no one had ever asked her directly.  They had all just assumed that if she had found Steve and Bucky she would tell them.    “Did you ever find them?”  Sam asked impulsively. 

“Of course,” she said as if it would have been completely obvious to anyone.

Sam choked. “Well why didn’t you say anything.  What the hell Natasha?”

“You never asked,” She looked straight into Sam’s eyes.  “In all honesty, the situation isn’t that simple.”

“You could have told us,”  Sam dropped his voice to a whisper.  Their argument was starting to attract attention from the other funeral attendees. Sam could have laughed.  Most of these people had never met Steve, if they had they wouldn’t have looked so scandalized at angry yelling at the man’s funeral.

“I could have,” she agreed.  “And then what would have happened? Steve wanted to stay gone and he wanted to stay with Bucky.  It would never have happened if everyone knew they were alive.”

Sam had to give her that.  Steve had been far too emotionally involved with the Winter Soldier.  Sam never would have respected Steve’s decision to stay with Bucky.  At the very least He would have separated them and hauled Bucky off for a psych eval.  To be fair, Steve had never been impartial where the Winter Soldier was concerned.

It didn’t make Sam feel any less hurt.  He had known Steve a long time.  He had thought they had learned to trust each other a little.  “Are they okay?”

“Depends on your definition of okay,” She paused thoughtfully for a moment, and persed her lips.   “But yeah, I think they are.  Did you know they have a dog?  It’s actually pretty cute to see the Winter Soldier out playing fetch with his little mutt.”

Sam supposed that answered the great dog toy mystery. He had always figured Steve was a dog person.  “How long have you known where they are?”

“About three years,” Nat had the decency to look guilty.  “It took me awhile to track them down.  They were living off the grid for years.  Ended up in Canada of all places.  I watched them for a few days and left.  I don’t think they even knew I was there.  Wasn’t a whole lot to see actually.”

Sam glared.  So that was it.  Almost a decade of friendship and Steve just disappears without a word.  Why was he giving this speech again?

Nat nudged him with her elbow.  “Come on Sam, you know Steve has the emotional intelligence of a banana pudding.  It probably never occurred to him what it felt like for us.  He’s a good man, but he has his blind spots.”

Sam snorted.  If that wasn’t the truth. “I mean, I’m glad he’s okay but how hard would it have been to send a damn text message?” Sam took a long gulp from his champagne flute.  

“Want to go tell him that yourself?” Nat was smiling like she was trying to hold back her laughter.  “Come on,” she said as she looped her arms around  him,  “How about we go find Steve and give him a piece of our mind?”

“I would like that,”  Sam said.  “Road trip?”

“Road trip,”  Natasha said, bearing her teeth like a shark.  “But speech first.”

 

* * *

 

 

Virgil was strapped carefully into the back seat of the Jeep as they trundled their way down a dirt road.  Steve was driving and Bucky was sprawled in the passenger seat chewing on a twizzler.  The road was rough and the constant jostling made Steve’s lower back throb.

“Turn right up here,”  Bucky said around a mouthful of Twizzler,  “You always miss there driveway when you come up here.”

Steve grunted in acknowledgement and turned onto the road to the farm house.  He had counted fifteen cows, two horses, and zero people in the thirty minutes he had been driving the road.

He was grateful when he pulled into Ellen’s yard and parked.  Bucky was the first one out of the car.  He reached to open the door for Virgil who was calmly licking the window while he waited.

“You got the leash,”  Steve asked.

“Yes, you pain in my ass.  I have the leash,”  Bucky snarked back.  It had taken them weeks to get Virgil used to walking on a leash.  Bucky had never really gotten comfortable putting it on Virgil, but Steve had insisted that they use it today.

Steve stepped out of the jeep while Bucky smooshed Virgil’s cheeks and lead him out of the car.  “So Stevie, you ready to meet the grandkids?”

Four months ago Virgil had run off while chasing a squirrel.  Bucky had managed to find him, but not before he had gotten Layla, their neighbor’s four year old German shepherd, pregnant.  

Steve had expected Ellen to be furious. Layla was a beautiful lady and Virgil was a no account stray Bucky had picked up in an alley.  Ellen had just laughed and shrugged when said that was the way things were and then invited Steve and Bucky to stay for dinner. A week later Bucky had taken Virgil to the vet to get fixed.  

Ellen, Steve, and Bucky had taken great pains to keep the two dogs separated while Layla was pregnant.  They had waited for weeks after the puppies were born before deciding on a date to introduce them to their father.   

Steve smiled and nudged Bucky with his elbow.  “Just get in the house.”

Virgil strained against the leash as they walked up the porch. Bucky let the dog drag him to the door. 

The screen door slapped open.  “Come on in boys,” she called across the yard. “How have you been?”

Steve and Bucky did their standard neighbor small talk as Ellen pointed them to the living room where Layla was resting with the puppies.  There were four dogs in the litter, one male and three female.  Two of them were rolling around on the floor playing with each other, another was resting next to Layla, and a third was chewing on the corner of one of Ellen’s end tables with a determination that put Steve to shame. All of them had their mother’s coloring their father’s tightly curled tail. Steve wondered what they would look like once they were grown.

Bucky kept a steady hand on the leash as Virgil lunged, his tail wagging frantically as he strained to greet the other dogs. Layla was the first to confront him, each of them posturing and sniffing at each other. Bucky waited patiently.  Layla and Virgil had never had any problems getting along before, but he didn’t want a fight to break out because of the pups.

Finally Layla backed off.  She watched Virgil cautiously as the pups approached him and introduced themselves.   Only once the introductions were over and Virgil had flopped down next to Layla did Bucky unclip the leash.

“Can we have a puppy Stevie?”  Bucky’s eyes were glinting with mischief. “Maybe we can take all four of them.”

“Nope, we already promised one to the Andrews kids,”  Steve reminded him.  “Besides we have Virgil.”

“C’mon Stevie.  We could have a whole pack of mini Virgil’s.”

Virgil’s ears pricked up at the sound of his name.  One of his daughters climbed in between his paws to lick his mouth.

Steve sighed.  Bucky loved Virgil like he was their son. Steve was not as attached as Bucky was, but the dog was a part of their family.  These pups were a part of that family too.  “Just one Buck. We don’t need four mini Virgil’s. I’m not sure we could keep up with four.”

Bucky considered Steve’s words for a moment. “That is very true.” At the end of the day Virgil was a working dog.  When they had first moved into the house he’d had some trouble adjusting to being confined indoors. More than once they had come home to find their things destroyed because Virgil had gotten anxious and bored while they were out.

Steve leaned back and took Bucky’s hand, rubbing gently against his knuckles with his thumb.  Bucky was doing better. One of the first things they had done once they had settled was start therapy.  They’d had to drive two hours to find the right doctor but it had been worth it.  I had been just a year ago that he had been too afraid to hold Steve’s hand in public or let Ellen give him a hug.

After years of drifting they were settling into a community. They were learning new ways to live and to heal.

“How have you boys been settling in?”  Ellen asked when she came into the living room.  “That old house been good to you?”

Steve smiled sheepishly.  “We’ve been doing fine Elle.  The place has kept us busy.  I’m actually kind of looking forward to spring.  I’ve never really worked on a house before.”

Ellen laughed.  “Its been long enough since anyone has lived there, I am sure you will have your work cut out for you.  You should talk to John at the post office.  He could probably give you some pointers.”

“Thanks we will.”  

They sat together on camaraderie talking about the house and their plans for the summer.  Ellen recounted tales of being a mother to her now adult children.  Bucky talked Steve into agree to take one of the pups while Ellen brought them tea.  

There was no world that needed to be saved or evil that needed to be defeated.  They were just neighbors visiting each other while their dogs played together.   It was sweet and it was simple.  It was exactly the kind of life Steve thought he would never be able to have.  

As it got later in the evening Steve and Bucky said their goodbyes to Ellen. She sent them home with warm hugs and an apple pie. Ellen waved goodbye from her porch as they backed out of her driveway.  They would be back again next week for another visit and to take home one of the pups. Bucky had already promised to bring her cinnamon rolls. 

It was pitch black outside when they pulled into their driveway. The night was calm and quiet.  The only sound was that of the wind passing through the trees in their yard.  Steve looked up at the canopy of stars.  This deep in the country there was very little light pollution to block their glow.  

“It’s a beautiful night,” Bucky said as he nudged Steve gently.

“Yeah,” said Steve.  Something tight was caught in his throat and his eyes burned as he looked at Bucky.  It was the best night he’d had in a long time.  Living here while both of them learned to cope with their nightmares hadn’t been easy.  They had fought with each other and for each other until they had built a space where they could grow into one another.  This was the life they had chosen, the life they had worked so hard to build for themselves.

Bucky laughed and wiped the moisture from Steve’s eyes.  “You Sap, let’s get inside.”

They shed their coats and boots in the mud room and walked into the living room.  Virgil trotted ahead of them already on his way up the stairs to the bedroom they all shared. Steve knew Virgil would be curled right in the middle of their bed once they retired for the night. Their fight for space had become a nightly tradition and Steve wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

There was nothing but an endless stream of tomorrows and somedays in front of them; tomorrow Sam and Nat would ring their front doorbell, tomorrow they would welcome Virgil’s pup into their family, tomorrow they would ask John at the post office about the renovations.

Someday their house would be filled with post cards and letter from old friends they remembered fondly, but rarely saw anymore.  There would be souvenirs and pictures they had collected from their travels around the world.  Someday they would bury Virgil beneath the ancient oak tree in their back yard and the little pup they would welcome into their home would have a litter of her own.  Someday they would die and be buried in the church cemetery.  No one would know that they were Captain America and the Winter Soldier, they would be known only as neighbors, friends, and fathers.  They would  leave behind a community of people who loved them and who they had loved in return.

But tonight, neither of them were thinking about those things.  They padded into the living room hand in hand.  Steve put a record on the old record player that he had salvaged from an antique store. Bucky stepped into Steve’s arms and let him take the lead.  He pressed his face into the warm crook of Steve’s neck and Steve pulled him closer to his body.   The music started and for a short time they were one being melded together by sound.

_ At last _

_ My love has come along _

_ My lonely days are over _

_ And life is like a song oh yeah _

_ At last _

_ The skies above are blue _

_ Oh my heart was wrapped up in clover _

_ First night I looked at you oh yeah _

_ Well I found a dream, that I could speak to _

_ A dream that I can call my own _

_ And I found a thrill to press my cheek to _

_ A thrill that I have never known _

_ At last _

_ My love has come along _

_ Oh my lonely days are over _

_ And life is like a song oh yeah _

_ Well I found a dream, that I could speak to _

_ A dream that I can call my own _

_ And I found a thrill to press my cheek to _

_ A thrill that I have never known _

_ When you, when you smiled _

_ Oh and then the spell was cast _

_ Darlin' here we are in heaven _

_ For you are mine _

_ At last _

_ Darlin' here we are in heaven _

_ For you are mine _

_ At last _

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. ABC - Jackson 5  
> 2\. O-oh child - The Five Stairsteps  
> 3\. (Sittin' On) The Dock of the Bay - Otis Redding  
> 4\. Bring It To Me - Sam Cooke  
> 5\. Stand By Me - Ben E. King  
> 6\. At Last - Etta James


End file.
